


Disco Purgatorium

by naturallyfleeting



Category: Disco Elysium (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:55:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22539709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naturallyfleeting/pseuds/naturallyfleeting
Summary: Kuuno De Ruyter is all grown up, and is only now beginning to come to terms with what Martinaise had done to him, and what it means to be the heir apparent to Harry DuBois.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Disco Purgatorium

* * *

  
Officer de Ruyter never really sounded right to him. Not even after being a pig for twelve years did it ever quite feel like it fit him. Sure, he was a capable detective, in no small part to his tutelage under two of the Revachol Citizen's Militia's top detectives. And he'd had his own accomplishments too, and who wouldn't when they operated with Kim Kitsuragi and Harry DuBois in the neverending mission to keep Jamrock safe. But being good at something rarely lead to liking it. And deep down, Kuuno hated being a pig. Moreover, Kuuno hated being Kuuno. Sure, getting away from his monster of a father and into steady pay and safety was nice but it's not what Kuuno had wanted when he made a life for himself. He'd wanted to be an artist, his paint insect carcasses and rotting animals and his canvas the shady back alleys and abandoned shacks. That's what Kuuno de Ruyter wanted to be, Cuno The Artist and not Kuuno the pig. Kuuno didn't have much more time to think about it before his motor carriage screeched to a halt.  
"We're here," Kim said dryly, pulling up to a Jamrock apartment complex, "Hope he's sober."  
The doors of the Kineema slammed shut as Kuuno got out of the car. He dug around in his bomber jacket for his cigarettes, fishing one out and lighting it with a match he struck against his shoe. "Yeah, you show me a sober Harry DuBois and I'll show you a fuckin' kipt who can be their fuckin' hands to 'emself," he said dryly, spitting at the ground like it was mocking him. And maybe it was. Harry said the whole city could talk to him, and at times Kuuno felt the same way. Never in the intensity his surrogate father had, but at times the same strange behavior that had graced Harry with his skill as a police officer would come to Kuuno as well. Be it from some strange suggestion that felt like another person in his head, or slimy-sounding voices in his dreams giving him vital clues to investigations that had felt almost entirely unsolvable. It had given Officer de Ruyter  
Kim gave his younger partner a look, one of the ones he’d cultivated through years of apprehensive appreciation for Harry and his protege. Where he expressed to Kuuno or Harry that while he didn’t quite enjoy their more colorful definition of what police decorum should look like, their insight was welcome. Yes, he thought to himself, it would be rather unlikely that Harry was sober. It was unlikely when they’d met, but Harry seemed to be on the up and up. While the detective enjoyed his booze, ever since he’d taken Kuuno with him on the trip home from Martinaise he hadn’t touched anything more illicit than that. “Right,” Kim said, eyes narrowed, “Kuuno, as I’ve said before, the less slurs you use the more effective you’ll be around witnesses.”  
Kuuno rolled his eyes, leaning against the car, “Yeah, yeah, Kimmy boy, I’ll keep my deep-seated resentment towards kipts outta earshot a’ you, and maybe in turn you’ll cut the tone you’re always usin’ with me. Y’know the one where you always think you’re being smarter’n me? Even though I’m the only one who solves half the fuckin’ cases we take while you do all the legwork for Harry an’ me? That one? Yeah let’s fuckin’ cut it.”  
Kim coughed, a cough that seemed to be the byproduct of an attempt to combine a mocking laugh with an impetuous scoff. His “legwork” was what actually lead to any of the criminals serving time or even facing any sort of charges at all. While Kuuno and Harry oscillated between disorienting, flirting with and threatening their witnesses, Kim was the one who ensured that the police work itself was done. But he’d let Kuuno have his fun, he could think what he wanted- Kim was sure of himself and knew what he was doing was as important as playing mind games and digging around in trash cans for clues, or money, or clothes, or whatever else his two partners decided the fifth trash can they were digging through had that was worth foraging through for.

* * *

  
Time was moving unnaturally slow that day, and the young detective’s mind was wandering. Back to his days living in Martinaise. Though he had only spent a little over half of his life there, the memories he made there were so much more vibrant than the ones he’d made in Jamrock. Hiding in his shack, getting high and making his weird art and being lost in his own world. A world that he’d only ever shared with one person, Cunoesse. That girl occupied his mind more frequently than nearly anyone he’d ever knew, and he was never exactly sure why. Maybe it was the fact that she was the only girl he’d ever felt any sort of fondness for, his father instilling in him a strong misogynistic streak. But even as Cunoesse was rough and fought to keep him in her grasp, she had a strange warmth he could never quite deny. At night, the young man would look up at the ceiling fan in his bedroom and become swept away in fantasies with her. Whether it was something gentle like merely holding her hand again, or something more lurid and sensual, Cunoesse was the only woman he could picture. Harry’s actions in Martinaise forbid him from taking cases there again, but he’d always hoped he’d return some day. But when Kuuno had time away from his work, he could never bring himself to see her. The hurt in her eyes, the idea that she’d waited for him as he did her, it all broke him. And that fear would rear its head whenever Kuuno planned to head to his hometown.  
Later, Kuuno dug into his coat again and attempted to fish out another cigarette. Not even realizing it, he was already out. Sure he’d just bought a fresh pack, he was surprised when he looked down at his feet and saw just how many charred butts lay around his boots. “Kim, how long we been waitin’ now? Seems like a fuckin’ century.”  
The other detective checked his watch, nervously biting his bottom lip, “By my count, forty five minutes. While I don’t doubt that Harry may just be sleeping in, we shouldn’t keep the station waiting. Let’s head into his apartment, shall we?”  
Kuuno nodded, walking up the metal stairs to Harry’s second floor apartment. He knocked, then waited a few moments and then knocked again. Growing impatient he started pounding the door until finally he kicked it wide open. Before he could catch himself, the sight before him had caused him to lose his footing and slam onto the floor, catching himself with his knees. Kim peaked in behind Kuuno and a similar feeling of immense horror washed over him. A few feet into the kitchen, Harry Dubois hanged from his ceiling fan by his necktie, his body slowly rotating. Kuuno, unable to move, began sobbing until he was dry heaving, and Kim rushed to tell the station what happened.  
There was no sound, and Kuuno felt like a child again, unable to do anything but quiver and sob as paramedics and other policeman swarmed the complex. Kim guided him to the car, draping him in a trauma blanket and doing his best to calm him- but there was no hope of it. Kuuno de Ruyter had never felt so alone in his entire life, and never so sure that Harry DuBois was now the victim of the most gruesome and intricately plotted murder of all time. Even the next morning after the autopsy report and forensics all but confirmed that it was a suicide. Funeral arrangements were to be planned, and Kuuno was told it that it was his duty to eulogize him. Kuuno, however, knew what needed to be done. In the early hours of the morning, he headed to Kim’s house and pulled him out of bed before he’d even fully woken up.  
“They’re in Martinaise. Get the Kineema ready, tell the station we’re goin’ to figure out who did this.


End file.
